There Is No Hidden Villain in This Novel Chapter 57

Getting second place in the entire school in a field I’ve been studying for less than three months?

If I lower my goal, I could change it to just getting into Class 1, but this is no easy task either. It means I have to be in the top 25 of the whole school.

Top 25 in the school after less than three months of introduction?

‘Save me…’

So, lately, I’ve been studying like a madman. Whether they fought or not, I’d just have Ryuseong roughly handle it, and I did nothing but eat and read. I only ate properly in the sense that I was putting in nutrients to continue studying.

It was the same when I returned to the dormitory. As I was studying with a lamp on, Ryuseong once spoke to me.

“Not sleeping?”

“Ah, if it’s bothering you, I’ll turn off the light.”

“That’s not it.”

When I looked down at him as if to ask what he meant, he said this.

“…Sleep while you study.”

From my perspective, it was a ridiculous thing to say. He’s a genius, so I guess he can get first place in the whole school without pulling all-nighters, but I’m not even the damn Cassis de Millang, so it looks like I won’t be able to do it even if I do stay up all night. Sob, sob…

Still, the fortunate thing was that because Ryuseong was taking all the same classes as me, his practical exam score in the magic field would be a zero. Thanks to the theory performance assessment, he’d get a certain score for the subject itself, but it was obvious that it would bring down his average.

I was studying tooth and nail, relying solely on that fact to narrow the score gap.

‘Still, it’s undeniably awesome to get a free ride on the group projects bus with the honors students.’

That was the only piece of good news.

Was that why? I had no energy, like a sick chicken, and no appetite. It was even more so when I was faced with a group project that could no longer be postponed. No matter how much I flew and crawled, I couldn’t just send a substitute for the practical assessment, could I?

“Hahahaha. Now, now. Fight, fight! Fight with your teeth clenched! I don’t care about the scores or anything, so just give me a great battle, you bastards—!”

It sounds surprisingly like something the principal would say, but the principal did not say these words.

The one standing on the platform now is Professor Ganta from the martial arts department, who looks like a buff, muscular macho man.

Professor Ganta, with his gleaming copper-colored hair, was a man with a mindset no different from the principal’s. Originally, the principal was in charge of the first-year martial arts, but I heard he went on a business trip for some project this time, so a second-year professor came in his place.

I had once wondered why the principal, who is a shaman since he is Teacher Damyeon, was in charge of the martial arts department. Could it be that there was no particular reason, and it just happened that way because he has a martial arts-like temperament? I mean, the way he yells at the cadets, telling them to just shut up and fight.

As the cadets lined up with resigned faces and chose their weapons, Professor Eiple, who had come to ensure the safety of the barrier, shouted brightly.

“Oh, everyone. It’s hard, isn’t it? So, please make magic your major! Unlike those ignorant swordsmen, we don’t forget that the essence of the academy is ‘education’!”

“Well, I’ll be. What a load of crap. Look at the exam questions you guys come up with. Is that education? It’s a goddamn disease.”

I think I understand why Arae-a calls students ‘cadets’ instead of ‘students.’ They must have felt a prick of conscience calling them students while working them this hard.

Honestly, from my perspective, isn’t this education too ignorant? Is it even okay to attach the concept of an academy to this kind of education? I thought, but it seemed these guys couldn’t think straight because all they did was chant, ‘Arae-a Academy is amazing, so I’m trash for not being able to keep up.’

No, you bastards. I’m about to tear my groin trying to keep up with the curriculum right now.

‘It’s the school’s fault for providing this kind of insane education, for fuuuuck’s sake.’

Theory was somehow manageable with free rides, but practicals were a different story. I hid my desire to cry and stood in the group assigned by the professor.

I secretly wanted to be in the same group as Ryuseong, but the teacher said to save the romance for after class.

‘Damn it. Can’t even get a little help.’

…To get straight to the point, we lost. Even though Dietrich and Shin Myohan were on my side. No, maybe that’s why we lost.

‘Well, when a jack-of-all-trades, a shaman, and a mage have to face martial arts characters with martial arts, that’s just how it goes, isn’t it?’

I’m suing the professor who divided the groups. But seeing as he’s pleased, saying it was a good fight, I thought maybe I could get an A-?

Suddenly, I saw Georges Vingtang kicking a stone that got in his way.

‘That, you know, that guy. The one who photoshopped like crap to hide his crappy face.’

Given his temper, which drew widespread aggro while attempting small talk, he must have been a jerk to those around him, and there’s no way any cadet would want to have a genuine friendship with a guy whose family emblem had disappeared.

In the end, he became an outcast in Class 1, and because of that, it seemed he couldn’t even form a group for the group project.

Whatever, though.

‘Should have acted with better character in the first place.’

Is that something I should say while in the body of Cassis de Millang, the king of character?

Anyway, after the practical assignment, I lived my life devoted only to studying.

Then one day, when I nonchalantly turned my head, I thought my eyes met with Georges Vingtang’s for a moment, but I decided to just ignore it.

“…”

Because starting today, the long-awaited exams begin.

There’s a unique atmosphere on exam day. A strange tension and an anxiety that feels like a poke in the lower abdomen. And the solemnly organized air and the tidy appearance of the teaching staff. In the bleak and sharp atmosphere where it feels like you should even chat quietly, shouldn’t run in the hallways, and should be forbidden from entering other classrooms, students are flipping through their textbooks. Their bloodshot eyes search the textbooks, hoping to create even a single new concept to be used in the exam.

However, Cassis de Millang is not looking at a textbook. He just looks out the window, as if he is a person from another world.

The classroom is full of sounds. The clicking of ballpoint pens. The tearing of spiral notebooks. The inserting of mechanical pencil lead. A footstep that covers all the noise approaches in a space where even the loud sound of swallowing saliva feels annoying.

Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack.

The sound of shoes echoing at regular intervals is fiercely organized and clean. The sound, heavy and solid as if from a man’s shoes, draws cold sweat from the students with every step. Ah, please give us a little more time. A sound of someone murmuring to himself without realizing it comes out loudly, but no one can criticize him. It is because everyone feels the same way. Please give us a little more time. Cassis de Millang’s pale face looks as if he cannot empathize with their pleas in the slightest. As his violet eyes flash brightly and aim at the front door of the classroom.

Rattle.

The wooden door creaked open. Through the gap of the open door, the hallway looks like a pitch-black darkness.

The professor who squeezes through it is wearing gray clothes and holding a box with both hands. It is a box made of iron. The box that transports the exam papers. Iron is cold, heavy, and sturdy. The professor speaks with a voice like rusted iron.

“Close your books now.”

There are cadets who can’t help but let out a sigh at his words.

To the cadets who are making faces like Munch’s The Scream, as if it wouldn’t be this terrible even if the devil said he was here to collect their souls, the professor speaks once more.

“Close your books and stand up.”

It was a natural instruction, as the professor had to go through the process of shuffling the desks with magic to rearrange the students’ seats to prevent cheating, but to the cadets, the professor seemed to have no human heart.

However, here there were also cadets with entirely different intentions from the average or the universal. For example, those who had learned certain information through connections or power networks with upperclassmen.

‘Arae-a Academy allows cheating!’

‘As long as you don’t get caught!’

…It might sound crazy, but it’s probably true.

This bizarre piece of information was, as expected, passed down from that sunbae who told us about D3.

In Ryuseong’s absence while he was at the training hall, a private conversation about how “you guys got disciplined not because of the duel, but because of the exam papers, right?” came up, and somehow it drifted to the topic of cheating.

‘No, no, no, sunbae. Cheating is originally legal until you get caught. You can’t just say that only Arae-a Academy allows cheating, can you?’

‘Ha, you didn’t know this! The professors at Arae-a don’t catch you even if they notice you cheating! That’s what makes it different!’

‘…!’

In fact, Cassis de Millang wanted to ask how that was any different from the sophistry of claiming that everything is an assassination as long as you don’t get caught.

However, the cadets were excitedly taking down the sunbae’s explanation.

‘This is close to a tacit agreement. A gray area, if you will. As long as the cadets don’t notice and report it, the professors don’t act. Which means!’

‘Which means?!’

‘As long as there’s no team-killing, you can use all your mana and inner energy for cheating!’

Cassis de Millang wanted to tell them that they weren’t taking a ninja exam. However, the cadets he brought with him, having already decided to cheat, were shaking hands and talking about excluding team-killing from their cheating operation.

‘Crazy bastards…’

At the same time, Cassis de Millang also had this thought.

‘What if they steal from my paper?’

To be honest, it seemed that the person who studied the most in this school was Cassis de Millang. If so, there was no logical reason for them not to target his exam paper.

‘…’

Cassis de Millang had made a certain decision, and he did not tell anyone about it.

It goes without saying, but his friends, who were dumb and of questionable kindness, seemed to have guessed that Cassis de Millang would not participate in the absurd operation of cheating. They almost begged Cassis, sobbing for him to just keep his mouth shut, promising they wouldn’t look at his exam paper.

Honestly, they seemed like crazy people, but it was also awkward to treat badly the guys who had gotten him an A+ on the group projects he’d freeloaded on without removing his name, so he nodded.

‘Is the school so tough that the kids are losing their minds?’

As he twirled the exam-use sign pen engraved with a spell in his hand, regardless of what cautionary words were spoken, Cassis de Millang suddenly understood. He concluded that no matter what, it was the academy’s fault that the cadets were not in their right minds.

Then, at some point, an ominous bell begins to fill the school with a chilling sound.

It’s the bell signaling the start of the exam.